Demons Don't Have Queens
by Coffee Fueled Author
Summary: A powerful demon appears in the Land of the Dead claiming to be the Ancient Demon Queen. She rallies all the demons in a violent uprising against their soul 'oppressors'. When the demons assume control, it's up to Manny and Glottis to dethrone this queen. But as they learn all about this strange demon, things get weirder, especially when they discover that demons don't have queens.


**Welcome welcome to a brand new story! For those who don't know, I'm starting up a bunch of new stories right now. This is to raise patrons! All the info is on my bio, so I urge you to check it out!**

 **This intro chapter is just to get people hyped. If you enjoy the story and want to see it continue, please be sure to let me know, and totally consider donating! If enough people choose to help support my writing, then this story will continue! Otherwise, it will become a patron exclusive. But this first chapter will always be publicly available!**

 **Now, I know there's a weird name in the first chunk of this, but I assure you that he is not a main character. He's just there to get the plot going. The story will be focusing on Manny and Glottis, who DO appear later in this chapter.**

 **Please let me know what you think! and remember to check out my bio! Thanks!**

Chapter 1: Of Souls and Demons

It was no use. This wasn't a problem that rewiring could fix. The compressor was well and truly broken; no amount of tinkering could save it now. The feathered demon snarled to himself, infuriated by the development, and he savagely tore the disabled piece out from the machines innards, severing several wires that had been connected to it with a sickening snap. Of course it couldn't be an easy fix. This was the last thing he needed right now.

With the mangled part clutched tightly within his claws, the demon headed for the exit of the malfunctioning walk-in cooler, pressing his wide frame against the heavy stainless steel door. As he emerged, his beaked jaws still lifted in a fanged scowl and breathing a string of curses through clenched teeth, he was immediately spotted by the spindly skeleton across the kitchen, who had been anxiously waiting for the fridge's mechanical diagnosis.

Raoul's slender and comparatively smaller figure came darting across the tiled floor towards the disgruntled demon. "Carlos! _Finalemont_! Did you get the cooler back in working order!?" He pleaded in a panic. "We only have two hours before we open, and I can't have my only walk-in broken down!"

Carlos drew in a long, shuddering breath, only managing to dispel a fraction of his mounting frustrations, and he turned his yellow eyed glare slowly towards the steel door easing shut behind him. "You'd best be starting funeral arrangements, ' _garcon'_." He grumbled as though speaking about a living being rather than a machine. "This thing was long dead before I got here."

"Oh, no no no! It can't be broken!" The well dressed waiter wailed, pressing the blue tinted bones of his hands against his aching skull. "I'm already short three staff members as it is! Without this cooler, service tonight will be nothing short of a disaster!"

As the large, feathered creature offered an apathetic shrug, Raoul suddenly caught sight of the mutilated piece of metal Carlos had crushed inside his talons. Blind panic quickly transformed into raw anger, and the smaller soul snatched the compressor from his significantly bulkier colleague.

" _Qu'est-ce que tu fais_!? I told you to fix the cooler, not tear it to shreds!" Raoul gestured towards Carlos with the machine part as if scolding a disobedient child, displaying a high level of dominance over the sizable demon.

Carlos clenched his now empty hands into tight fists of rage, bearing his gnarled fangs in an empty threat. He despised the way his superiors treated him, but had learned long ago that a demons place is below that of a soul's. That was just how things worked here in the Land of the Dead. The Soul's were the ones in charge; demons were nothing more than laborers.

"The compressor was broken when I opened the blasted thing!" He hissed in his defense, his feathers now a ruffled mess. "All I did was take the worthless junk out! You were gonna have to replace it either way!"

"But you didn't even _try_ to fix it first!" Raoul bit right back. "Do you know how long it's going to take to order a new one? If I still had my flesh, the boss would skin me alive!" He forcefully hurled the broken part to the floor, wrecking it even further. Pointing an accusatory finger at his subordinate, the normally meek skeleton warned the demon, "And if the boss takes _me_ down, I'll take _you_ down!"

But the demon wasn't about to back down, no matter who was supposedly in charge. He stomped forward a step, so hard that it seemed as if his size 38 work shoe would break straight through the tiled floor beneath him, and his shoulders tensed with rage.

"Let me tell _YOU_ something, ' _Pierre_ '..!" Carlos spat, his sarcasm practically dripping with venom. "I was summoned here to reroute water and assemble pipes and pump stations! Fixing refrigerators isn't even supposed to be part of my job! You seem to think you can order me to do all the manual labor around here just because the demons who were SUPPOSED to be in charge of those things bailed on you! And you know why!? Because they were sick and tired of being treated this way! The part was BROKEN. There was _NOTHING_ I could have done for it."

` Raoul, though initially startled, stood his ground, gently adjusting his decorated uniform. "Your job..." He sneered. "Is whatever the boss tells you to do. If you don't want to, there are plenty of others out there who will. And a demon who doesn't work doesn't survive. So if you want to keep your job here of maintaining the pipes and plumbing..." He quickly bent down to pluck the compressor from the floor and thrust it towards the fearsome monster. "I suggest you order that part _immédiatement_."

Though every ounce of Carlos's being wanted nothing more than to obliterate the pathetic french snob standing before him, he knew it wasn't an option. Demons existed to serve a single purpose. Failing to do so would eventually leave the demon in a sickly state of weakness and frailty. As unjust as it felt, this was how demons were always treated; like underpaid slaves. Carlos knew it was better to fall back in line then to push the issue any further.

With a forced and exaggerated daintiness, the demon removed the compressor from the bony palm of Raoul's outstretched hand. "Right away, ' _mon frere'_..." He viciously snarled.

The mangled compressor once more in his talons, Carlos roughly pushed past Raoul and stormed his way towards the kitchen's exit. He could hear the frantic mess of bones muttering endlessly about the kitchens dire predicament, and how absolutely awful this night would be for all those involved. But Carlos couldn't have cared less. As he set to the rest of his work for his shift purely on autopilot, there was only one thing on his mind;

Demons were being taken advantage of, and he was tired of no one standing up in their defense.

Carlos was barely aware of the rest of that night. He was so distracted that he hadn't even noticed if handling the rush that night was as nightmarishly chaotic as Raoul had said it would be. Only the sound of the time clock was able to finally break him out of his trance, waking him as though he had been dreaming. It took him a moment to regain his bearings before he exited the ornate establishment, not even bothering to offer any of his coworkers a farewell. He was just glad the day was over.

Standing outside the racetrack, Carlos stared intently at the concrete walkway. Before long, a huge chunk of the ground gave way, melting into steps that lead down beneath the Land of the Dead's surface. Ominous light poured from the path within, a dull moaning echoing all around. Grunting quietly, the feathered demon descended into the pit, hearing the concrete walkway repair itself mere seconds later.

The Land of the Dead had always had this intricate network of cavernous tunnels snaking beneath the worlds surface. The paths lead to all corners of the map, some, they would say, leading down to the Land of the Dead's very core. The labyrinth was mostly utilized by the demons. It was within these tunnels that new demons would appear when being summoned by the lands, and it was where the beasts would retreat to at the days end. Although not the nicest accommodations, it was a relief simply for the demons to have a place they could go to where the souls dared not venture.

As Carlos shuffled wearily through the colorful stone maze, he was noticed by a trio of other demons gathered in one of the room-like offshoots. Just before he exited their sights, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Carlos? You look awful."

Turning quickly, Carlos realized the voice had come from Aitor, the demon who ran the forklift and did other heavy cargo transportation at the same club as himself. The scaly, lizard-like demon had failed to show up to work that night, leaving Carlos to pick up the slack as the only demon present. The feathered demons bright yellow eyes glanced quickly at the two others standing on either side of Aitor. One was smaller; a lanky, squirrely little weasel in a slick uniform who appeared permanently on edge. Carlos knew from his appearance that he was a demon driver, though he had only heard them described and had never seen one himself. The other was a breed Carlos was completely unfamiliar with. He was coated in a dense brown fur that protruded awkwardly from the collar and sleeves of his work shirt, and his long, bulky head was topped in intricately decorated little horns.

Refocusing his attention on the demon he knew personally, Carlos folded his arms and took up an aggressive stance.

"Oh, I do, huh?" He snarled. "Maybe its because I just got finished doing EVERYONE'S jobs, _including yours_! Mind telling me where you were all day!?"

Aitor, rather than appearing guilty, tilted his head in mild but mostly uninterested confusion. "You're still working there, Carlos? You've got to get out of there, my friend. That place; that whole city is just a prison for demons."

His anger melting away into curiosity, Carlos lifted his brow and dropped his heavy shoulders.

"Yeah, this entire world treats demons like slaves." The little weasel sneered in a sly, sleazy sort of voice. "We've been attending these underground meetings. The demon who runs em; she'll really open your eyes to the sheer amount of abuse demons receive on a day to day basis."

"More than half the demons in Rubacava have abandoned their jobs to join her cause." The larger, furry demon snorted. "She's got some big plan that's finally gonna set everything right for our kind."

"You should come with us, Carlos." Aitor lifted a muscular arm and draped his webbed claws over his feathered coworkers shoulder. "We were just about to head to her next big rally. You look like you could really use it right now."

Though still thoroughly frustrated with Aitor's abandonment and lack of remorse, Carlos couldn't help but be intrigued. Someone who was finally taking a stand for the demons? This seemed like something he wanted, nay, needed to be a part of. Just who was this radical demon, he wondered? And exactly _what_ was she planning to get what she wanted?

* * *

The warm light of the morning sun spilled through the winding and twisty streets of El Marrow, waking the sleeping city from its slumber. The resident pigeons, who normally flocked to the roofs of the office buildings at night, soared past on featherless wings, headed to the street corners in search of a bite to eat.

Manny stood at his office window, his aromatic mug of coffee still steaming in his hand, and gazed at the stirring cityscape outside. El Marrow had become quite tranquil ever since the messy dismantlement of the organized crime ring that once held it in a tight grip. Manny had taken charge of the Department of Death, at least until the city could get back on its feet. He still had every intention of leaving this world with the woman who had inspired him to seek the truth in the first place, but he and Meche knew they'd rest easier if they first helped this land to recover from the damage it had suffered. So Manny took it upon himself to restore the all important Department of Death, while Meche joined Eva in fully organizing the resistance to eliminate any remaining pockets of corruption that still lurked in the shadows.

Heavy, lumbering footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Manny knew almost immediately who it was approaching his office. He chuckled to himself quietly; he was right on time, as usual.

Glottis slammed open Manny's door into the existing imprint of its shape on the wall beside it, the resounding crack audible throughout the building. "Good Morning, Manny!" The husky demon shouted, his uneven fangs bared in a gigantic smile and his miniature rodent-like ears wiggling with excitement.

The well dressed and surprisingly short soul turned towards the demon with a smile visible on his decorated skull. " _Hola_ , Glottis. How are things today, my friend?"

The enormous demon mechanic always made it a point to greet Manny first thing in the morning. The two shared a strong bond of friendship that they had forged during their four year journey across the Land of the Dead. In fact, it was Manny that had saved Glottis from his torturous existence in the DoD's garage. The old boss of the company had hidden the demon away in a tiny shack barely large enough to house his gigantic frame, only allowing him out to fix the company cars as they broke down. Though it had initially been a dishonest plot to score Manny a better client, the snarky skeleton convinced Glottis to follow his dream of driving one of the cars that he had lovingly maintained but never ridden in. When that backfired, leaving a disheartened and newly fired Glottis stranded in the petrified forest, it was again Manny who had come to his rescue. In exchange for his kindness, Glottis had stuck by Manny's side and escorted the soul across both land and sea, and the pair had been inseparable ever since.

The demon nodded his colossal head. "Good, good!" He chuckled, forcing his oversized body through the undersized doorway. "I was helping Amael to beef up his cars engine. You should see what that new turbo can do!"

Manny placed his coffee mug on his decorated work desk and leaned back against the furniture with a shake of his head. "Glottis, I told you not to go crazy with the modifications." He sighed, more amused than anything. "The drivers don't need souped up race cars! They just need something to get them to the Land of the Living and back."

"But Amael keeps getting clients that died in the middle of deserts!" Glottis defended. "This way, he can get his reaper to the new soul and back in record time! And he can do it in style!"

Still shaking his head, Manny couldn't help but laugh. Glottis was always so enthusiastic about his work, and it was pretty endearing to see how he lit up just talking about cars. Manny still couldn't believe that the previous big cheese had trapped the poor demon away, stripping him of almost all his freedoms. He never would've been able to appreciate the pureness and the innocence of Glottis's passion.

"All right, fair enough. Just don't get carried away with it, okay?" Manny pushed himself back into an upright stance and raised his coffee mug to his face. "Any news from the underground?"

"Oh!" Glottis's ears perked up instantly, suddenly remembering the important information that had briefly been overshadowed by his excitement to first explain his car modifications. "Actually, yeah! Ms. Lupe wanted to speak with you when you got a sec."

Manny tilted his head. "Lupe? At the Calavera Cafe?" He questioned, growing more curious by the second. "Is she alright? Is everything still going okay over there?"

Lupe, once the coat check girl during Manny's brief time as owner of the Calavera Cafe in Rubacava, was the one Manny had left in charge of the ritzy night club, much to everyone's surprise. She was energetic, infinitely positive, and could make a customer feel welcome and appreciated (even during a losing streak). Though a natural chatterbox, she knew just how reserved Manny's entire personality was. She would only ever ask to speak with him about something truly important.

Glottis ran a clawed hand through his firey red hair. "Well, I'm not really sure. I guess Lestor vanished the other day, and she hasn't been able to find him..."

Lestor was missing? Now Manny was positive that something was wrong. The burly demon bartender/ bouncer was the reliable employee Manny had put in place to protect Lupe and the rest of the staff there. Lestor had never wronged him before, and it seemed so out of character for him to have just walked out without warning.

"What do you mean he vanished?" Manny probed for more info. "Did he say anything? Did he take anything with him?"

"H-hey, Manny, I really don't know!" Glottis folded his ears down and took a submissive step backwards.

"All I know is that, according to Ms. Lupe, apparently all the demons in Rubacava haven't been acting right lately."


End file.
